


Perfection in the Mirror

by Freckles_From_Brooklyn



Series: Preemptive Fix-it Fics because god knows we're gonna need it [18]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Martin is the best husband okay he's very supportive, Post canon, Preemptive fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29311566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckles_From_Brooklyn/pseuds/Freckles_From_Brooklyn
Summary: Martin is the best trophy husband
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Preemptive Fix-it Fics because god knows we're gonna need it [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132277
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

Being an author meant going to events. A lot of events. Galas, awards, release parties, they never seemed to exist without an accompanying dinner or party that required fancy dress. Jon always brought Martin to these events. He didn’t much like being around people, but things were a lot more tolerable when Martin was around. When he was by himself, Jon would usually just stand in a corner or sit at a table with a drink, too nervous about saying the wrong thing to actually engage anyone in conversation. When he had Martin with him, everything just seemed right. He felt like he could relax, felt like he could be himself. Plus, Martin did look quite good in a suit. 

Tonight’s event was an awards banquet for outstanding fantasy writing, and it was happening in London. Jon hated London. Once upon a time, it had been his home, it had been where his life and his job and his friends all were, but too much had happened there since then for him to be able to feel comfortable. Now whenever he walked through the city streets that he’d once loved, he felt like he was being watched, like there were cameras tracking his every move, like any moment he was going to be attacked by something that was so warped by an entity that it could no longer quite be classified as a human or worse, confronted by Elias, his old boss. Jon sighed and shoved those thoughts out of his head as he swirled his hair into a sleek bun and tied his tie into an intricate knot. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a few moments before buttoning up his blazer and walking out of the bathroom. 

“Oh come on, that is not fair!” Martin said, staring at him as he came out. 

“What?” Jon asked, confused. 

“I’ve been trying to get ready for thirty minutes now!” Martin complained. “And— and you go in there, and you come out five minutes later looking like  _ that _ ? That’s not fair!” Jon laughed. 

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. He took ahold of Martin’s bowtie, which he’d obviously been struggling with, and tied it for him. “You look so handsome,” he continued. “I might just have to keep you on my arm all night to make sure no one runs off with you.” Martin snorted. 

“As if I’d ever go anywhere with anyone else,” he retorted. “I’m  _ your _ trophy husband, no one else’s.” Jon laughed again, kissing Martin’s cheek as he helped him with his cufflinks. He’d started making trophy husband jokes after the first time he’d dragged Martin to one of these events. He’d been half afraid that Martin would be offended, but apparently, Martin had found the jokes just as funny as Jon had, and had started cracking them himself. Martin fixed his hair, finally getting it to lie the way he wanted it, before pulling on his jacket and kissing Jon. 

“Ready to go win another award?” he asked. Jon scoffed. 

“I’m not going to win this one,” Jon said. “Have you  _ seen _ who I’m up against?”

“Yes,” Martin replied matter-of-factly. “I’ve read all of the other nominees’ books, and not a single one can hold a candle to yours.”

“I disagree, but I appreciate your confidence,” Jon said. 

“What else is a trophy husband for?” Martin replied. 


	2. Safety in Your Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired by thebiggestofyikes's comment to write a second part to this, so here y'all go! Don't get used to multi-part fix its, this probably won't happen again.

Jon almost choked on his drink when the presenter called his name for the award. Despite having heard nothing but praise for his book all night, and despite Martin’s insistence that it was “the best book ever written,” he’d never in a million years thought he’d actually be the one to win this award. 

“Jonathan Sims,  _ Landscape of Fear _ ,” The presenter repeated. “Would Mr. Jonathan Sims please come onstage?”

“Go on!” Martin said, kissing Jon briefly before gently pushing him in the direction of the stage. Jon stumbled a little before regaining his composure and walking onstage. The presenter shook his hand and handed him the gold trophy, shaped like the sword in the stone. Jon’s palms were sweaty as he approached the podium and adjusted the microphone. He took a deep breath before speaking. 

“First of all, I would like to thank the Fantasy Writer’s Guild of London for this prestigious award,” he said. “It means so much to be recognized out of all of the outstanding writers here tonight, and I am truly honored. Second of all, I would like to thank my wonderful husband, Martin Blackwood. You are my muse, my inspiration, my rock, and without you, none of this would be possible. I’m sorry for dragging you to so many events, but thank you for being my trophy husband.” The audience chuckled, and Martin went a bit pink. “Lastly, I would like to acknowledge my fellow nominees,” Jon continued. “I have read and enjoyed all of your books. They delight and inspire me, and I have no doubt that they will continue to do so long into the future. I consider myself fortunate to be in the company of such accomplished authors. Thank you.” The audience applauded as Jon left the stage and took his seat next to Martin, who was still a little flushed. 

“Sorry about the trophy husband comment,” Jon said. “I was nervous, and it just kind of… came out.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Martin assured him. “It was funny. Besides, I know my job at these things is just to sit here and look good.” Jon smiled and kissed his cheek. 

“And you do it so well,” He said. 

The banquet stretched long into the night, and by the time Jon and Martin returned to their hotel room, they were both exhausted. Jon carefully tucked the award into his suitcase before taking off his suit and changing into an oversized t-shirt he’d stolen from Martin ages ago and a pair of old boxers.

“God, I can’t wait to get out of this city,” He sighed, collapsing onto the bed. “I hate London.”

“I know a lot of bad stuff happened here, but at least now the good stuff might outweigh the bad, right?” Martin said, sliding into bed next to him and kissing him gently. 

“I’d have to win a lot of awards for the good to outweigh the bad,” Jon replied. “When’s our flight home tomorrow, by the way?”

“Not until 2,” Martin said. “I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to sleep in in the morning.”

“God, you’re the best,” Jon mumbled, burying his face into Martin’s chest. Martin chuckled. There was silence for a moment or two. 

“Jon?” Martin asked. 

“Hmm?” Jon replied. 

“All that stuff you said during your acceptance speech, was that true?” Martin asked. 

“Every single word,” Jon said. 


End file.
